Fleeing the Past
by Wootabulous
Summary: Thousands of Alliance soldiers would sacrifice their lives for refugees fleeing the Scourge invasion. Zane is a low ranking paladin, a survivor of the siege of Lordaeron. Rachel is a prodigy of ice magic from Dalaran. This is their story...
1. Chapter 1

**Greetings traveller**

**Welcome to my humble Fanfic.**

**I suppose I've always wanted to write a Warcraft Fanfic, I loved the story of Warcraft 3 + FT. I am not a WoW player, so a lot of that stuff I'm not sure about. Most of this stuff here is fictional, the characters are my own as is the plot. This is just my take on events in Warcraft 3.**

**Your feedback would be appreciated, but updates may be inconsistent. **

**Disclaimer: Warcraft does not belong to me. **

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

An armoured figure breathed heavily in Lordaeron. He stood plastered to the wall, a bow and an arrow notched into in his hands. Closing his eyes, he waited. Hearing shuffling on the cobbled footsteps, he popped out from his hiding space. The lone ghoul running aimlessly stopped suddenly, before the arrow pierced its skull, killing it. Zane hid behind the building again, breathing slowly as adrenaline rushed through his veins. Hearing running footsteps, Zane notched another arrow, turning around the corner and coming face to face with a group of Alliance soldiers.

"Zane!" exclaimed the leader.

"Tryphan! You're alive?" asked Zane.

"Barely. Zane, the city is lost, General Tyron is rallying what's left of the defense to head for the South gate. We'll be covering the refugees retreat to the city port Dwellingup" said Tryphan.

Zane nodded, placing the arrow back in the quiver and followed the ten soldiers as they ran southwards, heading towards a main town square. The southern town square was the main road that led to the south gate, and as such its defense was vital to the protection of the refugees.

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

It was chaos in the town square. Soldiers were desperately evacuating refugees while the Scourge attacked on different sides. Men and scourge lay on the floor, dying or dead. Blood caked the floor as the group rushed into the square.

"HOLD THEM! STAND FIRM!"

General Tyron was a seasoned campaigner, having fought against the orcs numerous times. As the soldiers ushered the refugees away with escorts, the remaining forces in the pavilion battled with the scourge.

"HOLD THEM!" yelled Tyron.

Zane and his group spread out, separated to help out in where they thought they needed help. Scourge continued to pour into the town square. Alliance soldiers, either alone, in pairs or groups continued to stream into the square to bolter their defences, but not as much as the Scourge.

"General! We cannot hold much longer!" yelled a Captain.

Tyron nodded. He had bought as much time as he could.

"FALL BACK! FALL BACK!" he yelled.

Slowly, the Alliance soldiers started to pull back. A large group of dwarves and high elven archers stood in the middle of the path, readying their weapons to cover their retreat.

"Tryphan! Let's go!" yelled Zane as he pulled back.

Tryphan turned from the slain body of a ghoul and nodded. He began to run, only for a huge hook to go through his body. Zane's eyes widened as an abomination charged into the square. They retreated from the monstrosity. Zane's body heaved as he ran down the path to the southern gate, blood caked on his blade. Behind him, he heard a volley of gunfire and arrows. He had no time to think of Tryphan's dead body now. He pushed it to the side of his head, listening to the second volley of gunfire and arrows. And dismay shot through Zane's body when he realized that there wasn't a third volley.

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

Zane never thought he would see the day where he would see Lordaeron burning. He stood still, watching the flames engulf the city. He stood at the gate, watching as buildings crumbled and the sound of battle engulfed the area. Hundreds like him stood still, watching the main road out of Lordaeron. Refugees had stopped streamed from the city by the hundreds, fleeing to the west where they could take ships to take them to refuge. Most would head for Kalimdor to join with Jaina Proudmoore. But right now there were more important matters at hand.

Like many standing with him, he was born in a time of conflict and strife. Even though the orcs had been driven out, they were still prevalent and raids occurred frequently. Zane was born in a small country town with brown hair and blue eyes. He supposed it was a mix from his parents. His father had been a former soldier and had brown hair and dark brown eyes. His mother served as a priestess in the Alliance where they had met, and she had blue eyes and blonde hair. The best of both worlds his friends would joke about, having some magical capability as well as the strength of his father. And due to this, he naturally became a Paladin, a warrior of light. A member of the Knights of the Silver Hand under the legendary Uther Lightbringer, they had fought against the orcs fearlessly.

And then Lordaeron was invaded. The Scourge through the spread of the plague killed off thousands, many from the purge of Stratholme by the Death Knight Arthas. Indeed, after Arthas's return and the assassination of King Terenas, the mighty Alliance had crumbled to the undead. They had tried to evacuate Lordaeron swiftly after news of a large Scourge army approaching, but they were only halfway done when the scourge attacked with such a force that they were sorely out numbered. Their defense was strong, but succumbed to the ferocious horde attack.

Zane had fought to hold the town square, and they had pulled back when they were about to be overwhelmed. Street fighting had occurred, the soldiers struggling to buy time for the refugees to escape, many of the soldiers trapped with no hope of survival. The surviving soldiers had all gathered at this one point. And now it was their last stand. Having mustered what strength was left of the shattered army of Lordaeron, the General Tyron gathered his men for a last stand, to buy the refugees precious time to escape. A sacrifice every soldier was willing to make. Zane himself had no family left, dead to the plague. As such he had nothing to loose, only the whole world to gain. But he watched his world crumble before his very eyes now, memories of his training under his sergeants, most of them dead now.

There were very few of them now, the Knights of the Silver Hand. Most had died trying to hold the main gate with Zane when the scourge had broken it down. Of the rest, many were injured. Zane looked around, seeing the disheartened faces of three thousand troops. They had started the siege with fifteen thousand men. They could stand by and do nothing as the screams of the refugees and the clashing of steel against bone would be heard. And then, they started to see the enemy.

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

Ghouls chased down refugees, slaughtering them and feasting happily. Several soldiers tried to make a stand to defend the few refugees left, only to be cut down by a huge abomination and his massive hook and cleaver. The refugees fled towards them, undead and human mixed among their ranks.

"SHIELD WALL!" screamed Tyron.

Zane was in the backlines with a bow and watched the frontline raise their shields, the first rank holding spears.

"STEADY!" yelled Tyron.

The refugees had stopped coming. They were now trapped, or were already dead. The horde charged.

"Archers, FIRE!"

Zane aimed upwards, firing an arrow blindly into the sky. The horde was closing, gaining ground quickly. And then the arrows hit. Several hit nothing but cobbled stone and wood, while others pierced the bones and flesh of the Scourge, cutting them down. Zane fired twice more before he heard the order.

"CHARGE!!!" yelled Tyron.

The ten man thick shield wall spread out as Tyron charged with the remaining forces.

"FOR LORDAERON!" erupted their screams as they thundered towards the scourge.

Tyron decided that a change of strategy may work. Instead of baring the brunt of the attack, he decided to buy his shield wall time by attacking head on.

Zane screamed out a battle cry, his longsword ready. Several of the Scourge were blown to bits by magic thrown by the few mages left alive. And then there was silence for Zane, before the jarring reality of a ghoul slamming into his armour. The effect was devastating. Forces from both sides met in a heavy clash of fighting. Zane fought swiftly, cleaving the head from a ghoul while punching another. He ducked under a massive claw, uppercutting the offending ghoul. Another ghoul came at him, only to have its legs hewn underneath it and its head crushed by Zane's boot.

A massive hook by an abomination drove Zane stumbling back through the crowd and onto the hard ground. He slid backwards, shaking his disoriented head he felt and waiting for the ringing in his body to cease. He had barely survived the hook by holding up his sword. His helmet fell off, clearing his vision. And that is when he saw her. With blonde hair, blue eyes, and a lean fit body clad in white long pants with blue streaks down the sides, and a blue top with a hood, she stood out in the crowd, wielding a mage's staff. She was on the outskirts of the battlefield, and with a cry, deadly ice shards fell into a group of necromancers, piercing their bodies. The leaders of the scourge screamed to kill her. They knew she was skilled and given enough time and mana she could do serious damage to the scourge. Ghouls who had broken the lines charged towards her. Her staff beamed out with bolts of ice, cutting them down.

Zane grinned. She had given him hope with how proficient her magic was, and how powerful she seemed to be. And then his grin turned to horror and he scrambled up, desperately trying to make up the ground to her. A crypt field had burrowed and popped up out of the grass beside the road behind the mage. The fiend gave a cry of triumph as he weaved a net and cast it on the mage, tangling her limbs up and sending her to the ground. Zane's head pounded as he ran towards the mage, heaving with his paladin armour slowing him down. The crypt fiend had been seen by the shield wall, but they didn't move. They had orders not to move. They could not compromise the refugees, nor let down their guard. The others had not seen the fiend sneak behind them and as a result continued to battle.

Zane moved quickly, seeing the projectiles launched by the crypt fiend that would kill her. He heard her scream in horror and fear. Zane ran, and with one arm scooped the mage into his arm and out of the way. The projectiles bounced harmlessly onto the ground as Zane slid to a stop, holding the mage in a bridal position. The mage was shocked, staring at him while trapped in the web. He quickly let her go, and shoved a dagger towards her. Dropping his sword, he held out his hand, casting holy bolts towards the fiend. It hit true, and the fiend toppled over, dead. Sighing with relief, Zane turned to the white-faced mage.

"Are you okay?" he shouted over the din of battle, helping to cut her free of the web.

"Thank you..." she yelled

"Are you hurt?" replied Zane.

"No, I'm fine, thank you!" she yelled back.

Zane nodded and rushed back to the large body of fighting forces. He didn't see the mage's eyes follow him the entire way, before her eyes lit up with determination and she prepared herself to cast another spell.

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

_**Here ends the first chapter...**_

_**Please click the button at the bottom and review, your feedback will really help me with my story. Encouragement is also encouraged. **_

_**I hope you enjoyed it**_

**_Until Next Time_**

**_Woot  
_**


	2. Chapter 2

**Another chapter in a relatively short time, and I'm quite happy with how it turned out. I rewrote whole chunks of this chapter to make it more smooth and sound better. I'm still getting use to the whole "warcraft" theme, but I hope you'll bear with me.**

**I thank you to my reviewers. **

**Well, with that, I present to you my new chapter.**

**Enjoy, and your feedback would be much appreciated.  
**

**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**

The sound of battle raged on. There were dead everywhere, corpses lying uselessly on the ground. General Tyron saw the slaughter that was about to happen, and he called a retreat.

"Fall back! Fall back!" he yelled.

Zane cleaved a skeleton in two, his blade severing the skeleton's spine. Kicking a charging ghoul away, he pulled back to the shield wall. The men at the shield wall watched the soldiers slowly break towards them and opened gaps. Soldiers ran through it, but the Scourge didn't give chase. It was then, that they saw him.

A death knight, an unholy champion of the dead strode confidently, clad in deep red armour with spikes. He was covered in head to toe in blood. In his hand, a long spike sword red with the blood of women and children. He strode ahead of the Scourge horde, standing in between the two armies. His skin was pale white, and his eyes resonated with darkness and hate behind his helmet which covered most of his face. The helmet was dark red as well, which only showed two eyes and his mouth.

"Cowards who hide behind their shields! Come out and fight!" he declared, his voice cold like a bitter wasp's sting.

Zane stood, grimacing at the evil aura that seemed to overwhelm the place.

"Will you not fight? Is no one brave enough?" he declared.

"I will fight you" came a stern voice.

A grizzled paladin, bleeding slightly from a wound on his forehead stared at the death knight. His hammer red with the blood of the unholy. The death knight grinned.

"Come!" he declared.

They charged at one another, their first blow earth shattering. The paladin's warhammer slammed against the blade and they seemed to push against each other.

"You will die here scum!" spat the paladin.

The death knight grinned and pushed off. His first strike slammed against the upraised pole part of the war hammer. The second strike cleaved through the pole, slicing into the paladin's body. In a second, the death knight moved forward, running him through. The paladin gurgled, before slumping to the ground, dead.

The death knight laughed.

"Anyone else?" he asked.

The men and women shook with fear. And then, a crystal clear voice, like a melody on the wind.

"I will face you"

**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**

He saw her, the mage from before. Her posture was straight, her chin set firmly and her eyes full of hatred. The death knight grinned when he saw her.

"You're a pretty little thing. It would be a shame to harm your pretty little face" he said with a laugh.

In response, an ice shard slammed into his stomach, sending him to the floor. He stood up, his eyes full of hate and rage, the cocky demeanour replaced.

"You'll pay for that wench!" he yelled.

With that, he charged. The mage smiled, summoning a water elemental. The water elemental moved quickly, creating a water projectile big enough to kill the death knight. The death knight charged it down, and the water elemental released the projectile, only for the death knight to roll to the side and slice the water elemental in half. He sliced it in half, before rolling to dodge a massive ice berg slamming into the ground from the sky.

"You're quite skilled, I'll give you that. I will enjoy turning you into a banshee" grinned the death knight.

He moved, dodging the various ice projectiles that the mage fired at him, before slamming his shoulder into her gut. She gave a scream of pain as she flew backwards, slamming hard into the ground. She desperately grasped for her staff which had flown out of reach, only to have it kicked away. Zane gritted his teeth.

The mage turned, her eyes still defiant. The death knight backhanded her. She cried out in pain at the heavy gauntlet slammed against her head. A boot to the stomach had her clutching her stomach. Then the death knight grinned, looking at the horrified alliance soldiers.

"Are none of you brave enough to save this girl?" asked the death knight.

No one spoke. Zane looked down at his trembling arm and hand, which had formed a fist.

"Do you hear that darling? No one will save you" he laughed, stomping on her body.

Another cry of pain. He put weight on his foot as he pressed down on her stomach. Zane moved quickly, his blade clashing against the death knight's. The death knight grinned at him, pressing harder on the mage's stomach. Zane had moved without thinking. What was he doing?

Zane pushed the death knight off the mage, then putting himself between the death knight and the mage. The mage looked in complete pain, clutching her stomach heavily and gasping for breath, while she lay on the floor. Zane turned to her, his eyes meeting her clear blue ones. He nodded to her and charged.

They clashed, before Zane parried the death knight's blows. More clashes of a blade, thrust, parry, strike. It was a dance of death. Zane parried the death knight's swipe, only for his fist to slam into his head. He stumbled back, head pounding in pain. He turned, only for a foot to slam into his torso and he fell over. Gasping in pain, Zain rolled as the death knight's blade sunk into where his head would have been. Zane lashed out, catching the death knight's feet and sending him to the ground.

Zane moved, grabbing his sword and sinking the blade into the death knight's shoulder. The death knight screamed in pain as Zane pulled back, slicing the shoulder. The death knight stared at him in pure malice and anger. The mage made an attempt to sit up, only to groan in pain and clutch her stomach again.

Zane heard her groan of pain again, and he realised that he had to end it quickly and get her to the healers. Zane shifted his arm up, firing several holy bolts into the death knight, who stumbled back with a roar of pain, before he harnessed death energy, slamming hard into Zane. Zane cried out in pain, slumping to his knees. He barely got to his feet as the death knight swung, barely parrying the blade. The death knight drove him back with a relentless assault. Zane barely avoided his head being sliced off, before he ducked under a swipe, and thrust with his blade. He missed, and his momentum carried him forward. He quickly pushed off, falling to the floor as the blade missed his head, instead slicing through his armour and running along his shoulder blade.

Zane cried out in pain, before the death knight hauled him up, slamming his helmeted head into Zane's. Zane stumbled back, before the death knight slammed his head with a left hook. Blood trickled down from his forehead where the gauntlet had cut. Zane then pushed back, slamming his shoulder into the death knight. The death knight stumbled back, watching warily. Zane was exhausted, his head pounding in pain. His head hung, hair covering his face as he heaved in breaths.

The death knight let out an exhausted laugh.

"You are good. I'll give you that, paladin. You will be a great asset to the Scourge" he said, heaving in deep breaths.

Zane looked at the mage from the corner of his eye, who was watching him with horror as he was being beaten badly. He gave her a small smile and looked at her.

"What is your name?" he asked.

The mage looked at him, the pain still evident on her face.

"Rachel..."

"Rachel...if I win, you owe me a kiss" Zane said uncharacteristically.

The mage's cheeks turned bright pink. With a grunt, Zane stood up straight, before staring at the death knight.

"Come, and I will PURGE you from this land!" yelled Zane, charging.

**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**

The death knight charged and they clashed. Blades whirled and steel clashed on steel. Zane's fist caught the death knight, sending him back. Another two strikes and the Death Knight stumbled. Zane moved quickly, cutting the death knight's sword hand off. He screamed in pain. Then Zane planted his blade into the Death knight's chest.

"May the Light save your corrupted soul" he said.

The death knight screamed in pain as holy energy streamed into his body. But then, he gave a smile.

"Thank you...you have ended my suffering" came the whisper, and he slumped to the floor, turning to dust and flying away by the breeze.

The scourge stood still, amazed at the defeat of their leader. Then, they fled back towards Lordaeron. Several waves of arrows sailed overhead, striking the Scourge hordes. The Alliance cheered, having victory on a day that seemed lost. Zane was amazed he had defeated the death knight. The men rushed towards him cheering, while a certain mage looked relieved, slowly getting to her feet and walking over to her fallen staff. Zane made to move to her, but was mobbed by the men cheering, shaking his hand and patting him on the back.

**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**

The Alliance soldiers camped in a valley where the refugees had fled to. After the battle, they had marched several leagues to the valley of Panaye. There was a tiny village there and they had explained the situation. General Tyron agreed that evacuating everyone the next day would be the best and to make for the city port of Dwalinup. For now, they would rest and recoup.

Rachel moved quickly around the throngs of men and women in the village. Hundreds of tents sprung up, but she was looking for him. The paladin that had saved her twice today, first from the crypt fiend and then from the death knight.

"Excuse me" came a calm voice.

Rachel turned to see the paladin who had saved her, who looked genuinely surprised to see her.

"Hi...I need a favour" he said slightly embarrassed, his cheeks slightly red.

"You've saved my life twice paladin, what do you wish?" asked Rachel.

Zane turned his back and Rachel saw the slash mark running down his shoulder blade.

"The death knight did it to me, and I can't reach it to stitch it up. Could you do it for me? No other women were around and you don't look busy. The rest of the men don't look very sober" said the paladin with a grin.

Rachel gave him a soft smile and his heart stopped beating for a second.

"Sure"

Zane grimaced as she stitched the flesh back together. He hissed in pain as the needle entered the flesh again. She saw his back tense with pain, revealing a very muscular back.

"If you can fight a death knight and kill him, you should be able to take a bit of pain" said Rachel with humour in her voice.

"It was a spur of the moment thing" said the paladin.

"Oh?"

"Maybe if we survive and get out of this forsaken land, I'll explain to you one day" said the paladin.

"Oh," began Rachel, "...what is the name of my knight in shining armour?"

"I am Zane. Zane Cousland. I do not believe I know your full name?" asked Zane.

"It's Rachel Rivers. Also, I...thank you...for saving me with the crypt fiend and the death knight" said Rachel, cutting the string and wrapping a bandage around his broad chest. She tied it tightly.

"Is it tight enough?"

"Yeah. Thanks for that Rachel" said Zane.

"It was my pleasure. I wouldn't be here if you didn't save me" replied Rachel.

"It's fine. Again, it was a spur of the moment kind of thing" said Zane, shrugging.

Rachel turned to face him. She had to admit, he was handsome. With short brown hair and rich blue eyes that seemed to represent the sea, changing at every second. She smiled at him. Zane stared at her, at the way her hair fell down around her face; her smooth soft lips were so enticing. Zane wondered whether she would agree to what he had said earlier. Rachel, seeing Zane drift slightly away in thought placed a hand on his cheek, making him look up in slight surprise.

"If you were wondering, I always fulfil my debts" she whispered, leaning forward.

With that, she pressed her lips to his. Instantly, a spark formed between them. The world faded from view, where there was nothing but each other. Unconsciously, Rachel's hand went to Zane's neck, wrapping him closer while Zane's arms pulled the small of her back into him. Then, they both realised what was happening and pulled back.

"I'll see you around, Zane" she said, walking off as fast as she could.

Zane sat stone still, a blush on his way. His first reaction was a sense of longing for those soft lips to return. Rachel walked away, her face completely red. She had only meant to hold it for a split second, but it had turned into more.

_Amazing...' they thought. _

A soldier nudged Zane and he looked over.

"Now that's what you call a woman" he said with a grin.

Zane laughed and grinned back.

"Come on hero, come join our band of fellows" said the soldier motioning to the campfire nearly.

Zane nodded, and joined the group of men. The war could wait another day. They passed him a tankard of ale.

'_To Tryphan, my friend' he thought silently, downing the drink._

The village slept, the only sound was of men patrolling the perimeter. Men, women and children slept on, knowing tomorrow would bring much harder trials. But for now, they felt safe with the soldiers protecting them.

**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**

**Character Profiles:**

**Name: Zane Cousland**

**Age: 23**

**Class: Paladin**

**Order: Knights of the Silver Hand**

**Weapons: Longbow, Longsword**

**Appearance: Brown hair, blue eyes. Wears a full set of grey Paladin armour. **

**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**

**Name: Rachel Rivers**

**Age: 21**

**Class: Mage**

**Order: N/A**

**Weapons: Ice Staff**

**Appearance: Blonde hair, blue eyes. Wears white long pants with blue streaks down the sides, and a blue top with a hood**

**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Writing this story is very challenging, really out of my comfort zone, but I'm enjoying it. I hope you enjoy it.**

**Your feedback is always appreciated.**

**Until Next time**

**Woot  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Well another chapter has been written. I have a rough idea of where I'm taking this story, so that's a good thing since I know what I'm going to write next. **

**Thank you to my two reviewers, and for a certain someone, the answer is yes. It is a tribute to that game which I love.**

**Anyway, without further ado, the next chapter.**

**I hope you enjoy and your feedback is much appreciated.**

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

In this forsaken place, there is no hope. There is no strength left in the power of the Alliance. The Alliance had shattered years before, the elves and other human nations breaking off. Few stayed to help the Alliance, and it was our doom. A scattered and un-united army, a plague that devastated the land and the people. The death of thousands, the screaming of the purged. There is nothing left for us here.

We are on our own. Word has come saying that Gilneas does nothing but hide behind the wall they have built. They refuse to give sanctuary to the refugees, allowing them to be slaughtered by their walls. Kul Tiras refuses to give aid, fearful of the enemy. They sit on their island, fearful and afraid. The elves fortify Silvermoon, they will not leave that place. They will simply fortify, and wait. If we do not make it to Dwellingup, then we are all doomed.

There is no hope here. We have only one option, to take the ships and flee across the sea towards Kalimdor, where Jaina Proudmoore has gone, thousands following her. We will now follow, with what is left of humanity. What is left of Lordaeron. What is left of those who survive. There is nothing that will raise morale. A victory was achieved, but at the cost of thousands. The Scourge of Lordaeron has happened, and we could do nothing to stop it.

Everyone I know is dead. But there is light in this darkness. There is a breath of fresh air in the stale land. She lights the way, brave and strong. She is so beautiful, enthralling and seems to float through the air. Graceful, yet strong. Proud, yet humble. She is my light in the darkness, my angel with golden hair...my heroine.

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

Zane stood still, watching the refugees heading southwards along the road to Dwellingup. However, to Zane it seemed that they moved far too slowly. They did not realise the Scourge does not sleep, and had probably regrouped during the night and would be converging on their position. Zane turned to see a scout come riding, speaking to the general.

"General, the Scourge are coming. They are about an hour away from us" said the scout.

"Go to Captain Richardson, tell him to get the refugees to move faster" said General Tyron.

The scout nodded, and rode off. The message was delivered, and the civilians were moving quicker, and in a matter of minutes the last of them had left the village. Only mages and archers remained, along with a select few men who were there on the request of the general. The rest of the soldiers were escorting the refugees.

"Dwain" shouted the General.

A burly looking dwarf with a dark brown beard strode up.

"General" he said.

"Can you set up your mortar teams on that opposite ridge, try to inflict as many casualties on the Scouge as you can while stalling them. When they start getting close, pull back" said Tyron.

"Sir" replied the dwarf, and the few mortar teams they had strode off, mortars and ammunition in their arms.

Tyron glanced over his shoulder, to see no refugees left. But with only around an hour gap, they needed to buy more time. It would be a massacre if the Scourge main body caught up to the convoy. Those refugees were going too slowly still, but Tyron was determined not to leave anyone behind. Otherwise every sacrifice the soldiers made at the gates of Lordaeron would be hopeless.

Tyron turned to the handpicked people who was part of his leadership group. They were 10 of them. Two human mages, an elf priest, two dwarves, two knights, a footman and one paladin. It was despairing at how short they were of Paladins. Tyron frowned, knowing that besides Zane who he had chosen to be in the leadership group, he could count the number of surviving paladins on both of his hands. They had taken the brunt of the assault when the Scourge had broken through the gates, forming a shield wall before they were swept away by overwhelming numbers. But they were his greatest asset against the enemy, holy warriors who commanded respect and were able to utilise holy magic effectively.

"Rams, ammunition report" he asked, turning to one of the dwarves, a rifle slung around his back.

"We got plenty of ammunition. Most of it's gone with the convoy, but we have plenty to go around if we need to fight. We have lots of mortar shells, only four mortars however. Arrows; enough to go around. We might need more at a later date, but for now we're set" said Rams.

Tyron nodded, at least they had supplies.

"Eothaeme, supplies and how many priests do we have?" he asked.

The elven priest closed his eyes slowly, before opening them.

"We have some food, it won't last very long however. Water can be gathered. Bandages are in short supply, and we have a despairing lack of mana and health potions. Most of the mana potions have been given to the mages, priests and paladins. Health potions are mainly kept for those who have a certain chance of survival of their wounds. Overall, we lack medical supplies. Number wise, we need far more priests than what we have right now" said Eothaeme.

Tyron sighed.

"Horses?" asked Tyron, turning to the three knights.

"We may kill them for food if we have to. We have only a few left, most of them are well fed and watered" said a knight, Panepe.

Tyron then turned to Rachel, chosen because of her skill in battle and her control over the element of water.

"Rachel, Yeggan, how many mages do we have?" asked Tyron.

They glanced at each other, before Rachel's soft voice came through.

"Only a few of us are here. We have maybe...twenty mages at the most" said Rachel.

Tyron frowned, he had hoped for at least twice that number. Finally, he turned to the footman and Zane.

"James, what are our numbers? Zane, how many paladins do we have?" asked Tyron.

The footman spoke first.

"We have about two thousand soldiers of dwarves, elves and men, two hundred cavalry, three hundred archers and one hundred dwarven riflemen. Our standing army is then approximately two thousand six hundred" said James.

"We have four paladins left" said Zane.

Heads turned to him in shock.

"Only four, but we had at least eight last time I checked" said Panepe.

"Fallon died last night to his wounds, as did Reaver. Troy went on the scouting party that never returned, and William has branched off nearby to gather his family to join us" said Zane.

Murmuring erupted from the group.

"Only four...how do we possibly hold the enemy with only four paladins" muttered the knights to one another.

The importance of a paladin against the Scourge was monumental. A single paladin was worth one hundred fully armed knights, and perhaps more with their supportive abilities.

"We have this to work with. How do we hold the Scourge? Any ideas?" asked Tyron.

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

Zane strode off, looking at the village. It was split in half by a huge fast flowing river, and a bridge had been built to fix the gap. Two walls blocked the river from the land, so that children couldn't fall in and drown. Since the village was built in a valley, there was only one entrance into the village, as there were treacherous cliffs and slopes around it. Zane walked back, Rachel's eye catching his, hers portraying curiosity. They hadn't spoken since that night, although Zane had gotten a shock when she had entered as one of the General's leadership group. They had met eyes, and she had winked at him.

"Blow the bridge" said Zane to the conversing group.

They turned to him.

"Blow the bridge?" asked James.

"There is only one way in and out of this village. They cannot go through the village without the bridge, as the river's too fast flowing. There's only one bridge that connects the two sides together, blow the bridge that connect the two sides and the Scourge can't do anything. They can do one of two things. They could build their own bridge, which would take time. Or go around. Either way, it buys us time to lengthen the gap between us" said Zane.

They nodded to one another, agreeing to the plan.

"However, we should also fight them. Let some of them pass over the bridge, then blow it. We will then engage the enemy who are stranded and slaughter them" said Zane.

They marvelled at his thinking.

"Brilliant plan" said Tyron.

"One question laddie. How do we blow the bridge?" asked Rams.

"Gunpowder" said Zane.

The convoy sent barrels of gunpower, which was emptied around and onto the bridge. What was left of it they spread on the far side, so that it would inflict more casualties to the enemy. The mortar teams were pulled back and set up, aiming for the village. A shield wall was then on the opposite ridge, ready to charge down into the village at any moment.

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

Zane stood, staring at the village. A hand tapped him on the shoulder and he turned to see Rachel.

"Hi" she said, glancing down.

"Hey" replied Zane.

"You seem afraid...are you okay?" asked Rachel.

"I'm afraid that...my plan won't work. Before all this, I was just an ordinary paladin in the Knights of the Silver Hand. Now, I'm thrust into a leadership role and people look up to me as one of the few paladins left. I was never this important, nor did I have this much responsibility riding on my shoulders. Rachel...I am no hero. There are all these tales about brilliant leaders, Uther Lightbringer, Sir Lothar. Everyone expects so much from me, but I can give them nothing but what I have. What can one man do?" he asked.

Rachel placed a hand on his shoulder.

"One man can save lives. You are no ordinary paladin Zane. The men say you come from good fighting stock, and that your father and mother were brilliant in their own regard. There are only four paladins left Zane, and you find yourself inadequate. But I believe in you...I believe your plan will work" said Rachel.

Zane's posture lifted and a spark came back into his eyes. He reached for Rachel's hand, holding and clasping it tightly.

"Thank you" he whispered.

Rachel smiled, and walked away towards the group of mages. Zane watched her go, before a small smile appeared on his face.

'_____Mages...a strange lot sometimes...but nevertheless, very, very attractive' he thought._

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

Ten minutes later, the first skeletons came across the ridge. The Scourge surged through the pathway, slowly branching out.

"Fire!" yelled Tyron.

The mortars opened fire on the Scourge, inflicting casualties. Archers fired a volley, only to fall short slightly. The Scourge, seeing the threat charged towards them, making for the bridge. The archers then took fire, inflicting casualties on the Scourge. They poured onto the bridge, moving quickly. Hundreds were already dead, blown to pieces or pierced with arrows. They made it through the village as the mortars stopped firing, readjusting their aim to the bridge. A wave of spells hit them, fireballs, huge chunks of ice, some bolts of magic and a few holy bolts. They charged up the ridge, only for a large group of dwarven riflemen to step forward, aiming and firing. More fell, the casualties of the Scourge piling up. A wave of spears came overhead, piercing even more. And then the call.

"Blow the bridge!" yelled Tyron.

The mortars sounded, blasting the bridge and the gunpower, a huge explosion rocketing the valley. Hundreds of undead troops were blown to pieces, both on the bridge and around the bridge, while about five hundred were left stranded on their side of the village. They cowered back, being easy pickings for the archers.

"Shield wall, advance!" yelled Tyron.

The shield wall stepped forward slowly, shields protecting their bodies and spears pointing outwards. Behind them, more troops followed slowly. They marched slowly downwards as the Scourge ranks continue to thin. Mortars fired freely, wrecking havoc on the Scourge troops on the other side, forcing them to retreat and watch from a safe distance. The shield wall began to hem the Scourge in, their spears glistening in the sun. The Scourge began to step backwards, screaming and clawing at any opportunity. Then they were hemmed in against the wall and the shield wall. The shield wall then proceeded to spear the various undead fiends, before pulling back after they were all dead.

It was a great victory for the Alliance. They cheered openly at the enemy, and then marched away. A death knight gritted his teeth and threw his battleaxe down in a rage.

The Alliance soldiers reached the convoy several hours later, who had cheered as they marched towards them victoriously, their heads held high.

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

"VICTORY!" the soldiers yelled.

Cheering broke around, they had hope. They had held back the Scourge army and morale raised again. It was only another two days to Dwellingup. They would make it.

Tyron grinned, holding up his hand for silence as he stood on a wagon.

"I would like to commend Zane, paladin of the Knights of the Silver Hand for the battle plan, in which we inflicted over one thousand casualties for only a few of us being injured!" Tyron shouted.

They cheered and Zane looked down, blushing. Sensing someone staring at him, he turned to his right to see Rachel grinning at him through the crowd. He smiled at her, winking and she flashed a brilliant smile back. For now, they had hope, and they had victory.

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

_**Well, theres the chapter**_

_**I hope you enjoyed it**_

_**Your feedback is always appreciated.**_

_**Until Next Time**_

_**Woot  
**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Been rather busy with my other Fanfics, but I got this chapter out. **

**Hope you've enjoyed the fanfic so far. **

**Thanks for the review Warrose, Hopefully the wait wasn't that long.**

**Well, without further waffle, here's the next chapter. **

**Enjoy**

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

They walked quietly along. Thousands of refugees and the remaining escort spared idle talk, making their way along the road. The undead were behind them, always pressing. When at night they rested, exhausted the undead would shamble along, following, always following. Never resting, never stopping. Since the victory at Panaye, they had bought a day and a half before the undead had skirted around the river and come in pursuit after them again. Scouts reported them being approximately a day behind them. With three more days to reach Dwellingup, it would be close. As such, General Tyron pushed the refugees and soldiers hard, and the refugees didn't complain. They knew how easily the soldiers could march off without them, leaving them in their dust trail. They knew that they would stand no hope on their own, and would be slaughtered to the last man, woman and child.

The refugees walked gamely on, the old and young carried on wagons laden with supplies, pulled along by oxen and horses. Zane walked with the remaining paladins, all of them tired and demoralized. He hadn't seen Rachel since the town, with her being afar off in the mages column. Zane didn't understand however, the impact that the aura of a paladin contained. He was still relatively new to the order, and with the purge of Lordaeron and being one of the last paladins alive, he was unused to leadership. He had been a member of the Knights of the Silver Hand, and now the remaining paladins had turned to him for leadership. Tyron also seemed to look to him as the leader of the Paladins. And quickly, the day passed with their forced march.

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

The second day passed slowly, only the thoughts of 'left and right' echoing in his head as Zane plodded along, breathing deeply. The mages were marching in front of them, and Zane's eyes seemed to follow the back of Rachel. She had passed by him to join the mages group in the morning, giving him a tired smile which, even though tired had lifted his heart and given him hope. It was about mid-day when her blue clad form suddenly stumbled and fell. Cries came from the mages, and the column stopped as they halted along the road. Zane stepped forward, into the circle where Rachel sat on the ground, holding her ankle. She looked tired, being a mage and not use to the forced marching. The other mages looked just as exhausted as her, especially a little obese fat one.

Tyion's voice shouted over the column.

"Break for thirty minutes, then we continue" he said.

Groans and sighs of relief broke out as soldiers and refugees plonked down, eager to rest their tired limbs. Zane made his way to Rachel, who was with the group of mages. They let him into the circle to look at Rachel, who was grimacing. An elven priest came over, closing his eyes and attempting to summon some mana to heal her ankle. He opened his eyes and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, I have no mana left. None of us do, after healing the amount of blisters and sores in people's feet" he said sadly, before leaving.

Rachel frowned at her ankle while Tyron came over.

"Rachel, are you okay?" he asked, personally coming over to inspect her.

"I'm fine...I just sprained my ankle in a hole" she said with a grimace, as she tried to stretch out her ankle.

"You'll need to keep going, there's no room on the wagons. Perhaps some of your mage friends can help you along" said Tyron sympathetically, before moving on to look on the other soldiers and refugees.

The mages looked utterly exhausted, physically spent. Zane walked up to Rachel, plonking himself down by her side.

"Hi" she said with a smile.

"Nice ankle" said Zane with a grin, pointing to her swelling left ankle which was starting to balloon.

Rachel poked her tongue out.

"Any idea on how you're going to get to Dwellingup?" asked Zane, pulling out a water skin and taking a deep swig of it.

He offered it to Rachel, but she shook her head.

"I don't know...I'll manage" she said.

They sat in silence the remainder of the hour, simply content with each other's presence. Plus they were too tired to talk anyway, knowing that they would be marching for a while without any breaks. Then they were called to continue. Zane stood up, helping Rachel up. She took one step and yelped, stumbling into Zane as she put pressure on her ankle.

"It looks bad" muttered one of the mages, who didn't like the thought of helping Rachel along.

Rachel looked dismayed, pulling out her staff to use as a walking stick.

"You going to be okay?" asked Zane, concerned.

Rachel nodded, her face set with determination.

"I'll use this as a staff, and some of the mages can help me" she said.

Zane nodded, and walked back to the tiny band of paladins.

"She okay?" asked Rivenn, a paladin with dark hair and dark eyes, several years older than him.

"Could be better" Zane shrugged, before they marched off.

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

Zane observed Rachel as she was at the back of the mage's group, with a mage helping her along. She used her staff as one leg, using only her right leg. Soon, she was exhausted and the mage has disappeared, too tired to help her any further. Zane stretched his back, before picking up his pace and walking side by side with Rachel. She looked at him, flushed with loose hair brushing her cheek. She was breathing heavily. Zane passed his pack to Rivenn, and held Rachel's arm.

"Get on" said Zane, pulling her to the side and bending down.

"What?" she asked, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Get on" repeated Zane.

Rachel attached her staff to her back, before Zane lifted her into his back, in a piggyback riding position. His arms wrapped around her legs and her arms wrapped around his neck.

"Good thing you're not heavy" said Zane with a grin, walking along.

The armour was rather warm to Rachel's skin, but she slowly regained her breathing, only having to be worried about falling off. After several minutes, she could see sweat pouring down Zane's face and hear his ragged breathing. She pulled her staff from her back, before forming a small ice block in her hand.

"Open up" she said, reaching around to place the ice block in his mouth.

Zane complied, letting the sweet ice renourish his dry mouth. Rachel then formed another ice block, holding it against Zane's forehead to help him keep cool.

"Thanks," Zane whispered, and they continued on.

Rivenn grinned at Zane.

"Sir Zane, will you carry me as well?" he shouted, good humouredly.

"Sir Zane, my ankle! Please...my ankle! I cannot walk" shouted another soldier.

Those who were around them chuckled, allowing the spirits and moods of the column to lift. Rachel nudged him.

"Sir Zane, will you carry the rest of the way to Dwellingup?" she teasingly asked.

"I much rather drop you right here" deadpanned Zane.

Rachel giggled by his ear.

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

Three hours later, Tyron called for a break. Again, the column slumped down exhausted, breathing heavily. Zane let Rachel down, before slumping to the floor, exhausted.

"You look tired" said Rachel with a grin.

Zane looked at her with a teasing smile.

"Yeah, and you're heavy" he said, and Rachel slapped him on the arm playfully.

"Thanks" she said, looking at him.

"No problem" replied Zane, patting her shoulder.

Fifteen minutes later, Zane found himself carrying Rachel again. He was tired, but somehow drew strength from the soft skin and lithe body holding on to him. Zane strode on, thankful for the tough training regime Zane's sergeant had put him through. The man was dead now, cut down protecting the retreat of a group of refugees. He had not died in vain. Indeed, every refugee that could be saved was here now, only a day and a bit from safety. Rachel again gently placed an ice block in his mouth and held an ice block to his forehead to cool him down. He grinned at her, before striding on. Indeed, the ice blocks were much help to him.

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

Another three hours later, and they stopped for the night. They were now a good eight hours march from Dwellingup, and had now met up with several refugee groups heading the same way. They had willingly invited the refugees in, and they had accepted gratefully. Food was given, a stew of small hunks of what meat they had left and vegetables foraged. Water was also provided from a stream nearby. A flurry of noise at the front, and Zane looked to see a lone horseman, a scout come from behind.

"General, they are right behind us. They will overrun us in four hours" he said, his horse breathing heavily as it pawed the ground.

Tyron's eyes widened, glancing at the rearguard of the refugee column.

"They picked up speed...they do not want us to reinforce Dwellingup...or to reach it" he said, looking around.

He turned to his logistics advisor, who interpreted the look in Tyron's eyes and shook his head.

"The people cannot go on. We need at least two hours to rest before we even have a chance of marching through the night. Most of them are exhausted and tired. We may not be able to keep up the pace" he said.

Tyron swore loudly, before looking at the exhausted faces of the refugees and soldiers. They all stared hollow eyed at him, exhausted.

"Two hours" he replied, before walking off, hoping his scout he had dispatched at the start of the day would have made it to Dwellingup by now.

Two hours was all he could spare, and all he was willing to spare. It would be close.

Torches were lit, and held at intervals. The light did little to light up the dark road, but it helped. The column marched on, after two hours rest with much needed food and water in them. Zane walked by himself, a priest having mana to heal Rachel's ankle. She had thanked him, kissing him on the cheek in thanks and walking off to join the mages again. It was dark, the only light being the torches held up in the darkness. Shadows flickered from the trees, the darkness seeming to consume them. Everyone was tired, exhausted, sore and weary, yet they carried on. They knew that two hours behind them, the undead marched tirelessly on. Pursuing, slowly gaining. They would need every second they had to get away. This was the final leg, and it would make or break them.

The column marched away in the darkness, while the undead pursued. And their safety, was the port of Dwellingup, where there it would have boats to evacuate them to Kalimdor, under the rule of Jaina Proudmoore.

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

_**Well, obviously this story is continuing on. **_

_**I hope you enjoyed it, and look forward to a large battle scene in the future chapters.**_

_**Please review, as your feedback is appreciated.**_

_**Until Next Time**_

_**Woot  
**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Well, the story is slowly coming to an end. I've really enjoyed writing this story so far.**

**Responses to reviews:**

**ali: I'm glad you enjoy it.**

**Mushroom: Glad you've been reading it from the start. They are rather short, as this is what you would call a side-project. Since I have a lot of other fics that I write about, I just wanted to have a short break from all the other fanfics I wrote and write a short FF in the Warcraft setting.**

**Thank you for continuing to reading 'Fleeing the Past'**

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

Heaving breaths filled the night air. They marched onwards, General Tyron setting a brisk pace. Behind them, scouts continued to ride from the rear, reporting of the Scourge catching up. They were still several hours away from Dwellingup, and the Scourge had slowly been closing in on them. Daybreak had hit, and every man, woman and child felt exhausted. Many supported each other as they stumbled along, trying to stay in rhythm with the marching column. The wide open plains along the road had turned into a forest, tightly compacted. Tyron spotted a hastily constructed barricade, with wooden spikes pointing outwards and a large number of archers and horses nearby.

"General Tyron. Your scout told us of your predicament, we will stall the enemy here. Go quickly, Dwellingup is still quite far away" said an archer on the walls.

They passed through the gate, where they saw men with pots of oil. They were going to use fire to stall the enemy. They nodded to each other, murmurs of greeting, except for one. A wild shout of joy as a woman ran, jumping into the arms of one of the guards at the gate, both with tears streaming down their eyes. They embraced in a loving kiss and then a bone crunching hug, holding on for dear life. Zane would later find out that it was his wife, having gone to visit family in Lordaeron.

The captain motioned to the soldier, and he lifted his wife on the horse, and rode away with the column, both grateful to have seen each other. It gave the army hope, knowing that the sacrifices they made weren't in vain. A single couple united that raised the morale of them all. The column marched onwards, and soon over the gusts of wind, the sounds of war were sounded. They reached a second barricade an hour later, again passing through. As they had gotten through the barricade, the guards of the first gate came riding swiftly down the path. Tyron motioned for the leadership group to stay, while the rest carried on.

"The army is massive. We managed to light the path on fire before us, so it will buy us some time...but you cannot hold this pathway. There are far too many" said the captain.

The captain of the second gate looked at the first, then at Tyron.

"Dwellingup still needs time to prepare, every hour we give her gives her more chance to ready her defences. I will not abandon the barricade" said the captain.

Tyron nodded.

"Yes, it'll give the refugees time to reach Dwellingup and for my men to get some rest. Dwellingup cannot hold without preparation" said Tyron.

"Where are your people from?" asked the captain of the second barricade.

"Lordaeron, what is left of the survivors anyway" said Tyron.

"So it is true then, Lordaeron has fallen..."

"It is, how far is Dwellingup from here?" asked Tyron.

The second captain glanced at the first, both holding up 2 fingers questionably.

"Two and a half hours" they both said.

Tyron nodded.

"I hope to see you men at Dwellingup, thank you for your help. Thought we might have been overrun before we made it to Dwellingup" explained Tyron.

"Go my friend. Tell the captain of the garrison that the enemy will be at our gates by nightfall"

Tyron nodded, and the leadership group walked away from the brave men staying behind to buy their tired and exhausted column time.

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

Dwellingup gates reared up, and cheers erupted from the refugee column, and the city. They entered into the large city, safe. Zane glanced at the high walls and the garrison. They looked well trained and strong, growing up by the sea. As the column dispersed, Zane and his fellow paladins followed Tyron to the keep, in center of the city. It was here, that Lord Edmund resided, a wise and noble lord. They walked through the gates to the keep, and entered into the main hallway. Statues and fine carpet were before them, with large paintings of various plants, animals, armies and cities. Proceeding through the keep, they made it to the conference room, where Lord Edmund stood around a map of Dwellingup, with several other generals. His eyes lit up as he saw Tyron.

"Tyron! It is good to see you again" he said, beaming happily.

Tyron smiled back.

"Uncle, it is good to see you too" he said.

Zane's eyebrows lifted in surprise.

Lord Edmund turned to the paladins.

"Ahh, Knights of the Silver Hand. Welcome welcome! It is excellent that you are able to join us in the defence of Dwellingup" he said.

They nodded to the Lord, taking places by the side of the room. Tyron turned to a messenger boy.

"Send for my captains and leaders" he instructed, holding out a piece of paper.

The messenger boy took it, with a nod and ran out of the room. Ten minutes later, the leadership group present at the village trickled in, one at a time. Zane's eyes were only for the mage clad in blue as she walked around the room, to take her place nearby.

Lord Edmund turned serious.

"Dwellingup is strong yes, but even with your reinforcements...it is unlikely we will be able to hold the city" said Edmund.

"The enemy far outnumbered the garrison at Lordaeron...many died to protect the refugees fleeing" said a knight.

Edmund frowned, pacing the floor.

"Many refugees have been taken already to Kalimdor by boat. Kul Tiras is sending transport ships, but it will be at least two days or so before they arrive. Most of the population of Dwellingup has been evacuated; most of the people who remain are essential people and soldiers. Our own shipwrights are busy at work with many more transports, but that also will take at least another day, if not more. If we can hold through the night and day, we will be able to evacuate all of the people from Dwellingup to Kalimdor, and then we can pull back after the refugees are safe. There will be enough transports to take what's left of the garrison after the siege to Kalimdor once the navy of Kul Tiras arrives" said Edmund.

Tyron paced the room, frowning and thinking.

"What are your numbers uncle?" asked Tyron, looking at Edmund.

"Four thousand swordsmen, one thousand pikemen, two thousand bows and one thousand calvary" said Edmund.

"I bring approximately two thousand six hundred, so we have at least ten thousand men to defend Dwellingup. The Scourge army had at least fifty thousand, if not more" said Tyron.

"By the light. No wonder you could not hold the enemy, even with the Knights of the Silver Hand" said a Dwellingup captain.

The paladins said nothing, Zane shaking his head.

"Are there any Knights of the Silver Hand present here?" asked Zane.

Edmund shook his head.

"Uther Lightbringer came and took them all; I believe to defend a town nearby. No news has come from them in three days. I fear the worst for Uther. News says that the Death Knight traitor Arthas was seen heading there with a large army" said Edmund.

The paladins murmured among themselves. The legendary Uther Lightbringer, most likely dead dead. Edmund looked at their exhausted and tired faces. It was not only the physical toil on their bodies, but the emotional one as well.

"Go and rest for several hours. We will talk more later" said Edmund.

Slowly, they filled out, being taken to their quarters. Zane followed his assigned servant, Rachel next to him, having both been allocated to the same wing in the eastern hall.

"I'm exhausted...and dirty. Can't wait for a nice long bath" sighed Rachel.

Zane glanced at his dry and dirty hands.

"You got that right, then a nice long nap will do me good" said Zane.

"Lord Zane, here are your quarters" said the servant, motioning to the door.

Zane thanked him, before smiling at Rachel.

"See you later" he said, entering his room.

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

The plans were set. Dwellingup contained three sets of walls. First was the outer wall, which possessed a main gate with many towers and weapons of war. It was here that most of their force will be spread. The second set of walls was set further in, also heavily fortified. It was the second wall that would be the fallback position, in which it separated the outer military buildings with the houses on the interior. The third set of walls was set around the port. It would be here which would be the last fall back position, after both sets of walls having fallen. It was here that the salvation of thousands of human survivors depended on.

Soldiers moved quickly, running to the walls of Dwellingup. The Scourge army had arrived to Dwellingup, and what boats available were used to evacuate the remaining population. Here they had to hold, to buy time until the boats from Kul Tiras came and to allow their own shipwrights to build more, to take the remaining people to Kalimdor. It was early afternoon, the Scourge having been halted by the burning fires, the leaders of the damned knowing that they would not catch up to the refugees in time anymore.

Trebuchets were being loaded, ready to fire at the enemy, and archers lined the walls. Men streamed from the city, through the gates towards the outer wall. Ballista's were loaded, ready to fire huge arrows into the sky, as well as catapults with explosive ammunition. A large contingent of pikemen stood by the gate, pikes forward to hold the breach. Behind them, several rows of dwarven riflemen and archers. Soldiers ran around, many holding bunches of arrows or crates of dwarven bullets. Mortar teams were set up behind the trebuchets, crates used as barricades to protect them, with several riflemen protecting them. Should the wall be lost, the second gate was left open, defended by a large group of soldiers.

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

Zane stood on the left side of the gate on the wall, the four paladins having spread out. Rachel stood next to him, her face expressionless. Zane looked at her, and she turned to look at him.

"We made it this far..." he began, but Rachel smiled at him and cut him off.

"Now...we must see this to the end" she finished.

They turned to watch the Scourge move into formations, just out of range of their siege weapons and mortars. The outside of Dwellingup was covered in dead and unholy creatures.

"Zane..." began Rachel, looking at Zane again.

Zane turned to her, and she looked slightly flushed and nervous.

'_I don't want to loose this opportunity...I don't want to die without regrets' thought Rachel._

"You were...the first man I ever kissed...I...could you...uhmmm...if I were to die today..." she mumbled.

Zane's eyes widened, before he smiled at her, understanding what she wanted. She wouldn't meet his eyes, and so he lifted her chin with his hand. Her blue eyes shined at him in anticipation, and he leaned forward slowly, her head rising towards him. Their lips met, in a soft but lingering chaste kiss. Although it only seemed like several seconds, to them it felt like eternity. A shining light in the face of darkness and doom. A connection between two individuals; who up to these events had no idea who each other was...but now relied so heavily on each other. Zane leant on Rachel, and Rachel on Zane. She was his heroine, he was her hero. Soldiers turned to view them, and many of them grinned, this simple act raising their morale. Zane pulled back, opening his eyes slowly. Rachel opened hers, and they smiled at each other. Both felt their hearts beating quickly at their feelings...even after only a few days. It was already love, and both knew it in their hearts.

His hand instinctively sought hers and she hung on to his hand for dear life. Together, they turned to face the Scourge, for perhaps the final time on the land of Azeroth.

For the survivors of Lordaeron and the soldiers of Dwellingup...the battle for Dwellingup, was about to begin.

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

_**Well, next chapter will be the battle of Dwellingup, a fight for survival.**_

_**Please review as your feedback is appreciated.**_

_**Until Next Time**_

_****__Woot_  



	6. Chapter 6

**I did say I was leaving , but I feel that I needed to finish this story.**

**I had this chapter already half written when I decided to quit, but I will definately finish this story. Several people have sent their thoughts on PM about enjoying this story immensely and wanting it to be finished, and so I will dedicate the rest of the chapters to them.  
**

**So please enjoy.  
**

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

The first wave moved in seemingly slow motion at the motion of a commander. Ghouls, crypt fiends, abominations, skeletons. All sorts of undead and damned creatures shambled, ran or crawled their way towards the proud tall gate and walls of Dwellingup. Overhead, gargoyles flew angrily, a two pronged attack. Meat wagons opened fire on the walls, sending projectiles hurling at the wall and towers, sending rubble flying. A large tree trunk to be used as a battering ram, dark with runes of black magic and red with spilt blood, carried by several abominations as they lumbered towards the gates. In response, arrows rained back from the walls, striking into the bodies of the charging ground troops. Trebuchets, catapults and mortars pounded into the ground, slamming into bodies, tearing them to pieces. Ballistas fired at the gargoyles piercing them as they flew towards the walls.

The battle for Dwellingup had begun.

Zane fired his arrow at a swooping gargoyle, slamming home into its forehead and sending it screeching to the ground. The wave slowly drew closer to the walls. Rachel, her eyes shining white cast an ice storm on a group of necromancers, slamming into their robed bodies. The skeletons summoned around them vanished into dust, their powers lost from the death of their masters. And then came the ladders as the wave reached the walls.

Wooden ladders carved from the very forest that Dwellingup had come to depend so much on. Trees crudely sewn together, others formed out of bone. And with that, hundreds of undead began the scramble up.

"Ladders!" screamed Zane, drawing his sword.

"Swords!" yelled another.

The defenders cast down the ladders they could, but more raised up. The first ghoul appeared on the wall, only to have an ice bolt slam into it from point blank range by Rachel. The ghoul next to it was sent flying backwards from a fierce kick from Zane. And then they were swamped by them.

General Tyron stood on the second wall, watching the assault on the first wall. Much of their strength had been put on the first wall, hoping it would hold. He could see his various generals fighting valiantly, Zane and Rachel on the left flank, Eothaeme and his priests were spread out among the walls, to try and heal. The burly dwarf Rams ordered his mortars to double their fire. Panape and his knights fighting on the right flank. They were holding...but for how long? James and his men stood by the gate, ready to repel any creature that broke through. Tyron frowned.

'_Can we hold...?' he wondered._

Zane ducked under the sword of a skeleton, twirling and slamming his blade through its chest. He punched a ghoul coming up a ladder, sending it flying backwards. Pulling the skeleton off his blade, he ducked underneath a gargoyle swipe before sending holy bolts at it, sending it shrieking to theslamming it with an ice bolt. She turned and fired several ice bolts, destroying several ladders. Around her, men fought bravely against the overwhelming odds. They needed to hold. She saw Zane to her left, grabbing a skeleton by the arm and throwing it over the wall. They caught eyes for a moment, and he screamed at her, pointing behind.

Rachel turned quickly, blocking the downwards thrust from the pike wielding skeleton. Then he was there, his blade cutting through its neck as he brought his downwards strike, the skeleton slumping to pieces. Zane looked at her somewhat concerned. She nodded her head and he smiled at her, before turning to decapitate a ghoul.

At the gates, Tyron had strengthened the beams with as much holy magic and blessings that could be found. He had then ordered the gate to be even more strengthened, and he was glad he had done so. The gates had been continually pounded from the battering ram, wielded by the abominations. However, the resistance at the gate was strong. His finest archers and riflemen stood there, firing at the abominations. Many lay dead now, and the death knight was growing impatient. Swearing angrily, he strode off knowing that they wouldn't breach the walls with the battering ram.

"Call the retreat" he hissed to a nearby necromancer.

The necromancer nodded.

The undead retreated, running from the walls as arrows and bullets followed them, cutting down many. The soldiers at the wall cheered, tired but victorious. For now they would enjoy the victory, but they knew that the undead would not let up. They were relentless, and they would continue to defend Dwellingup. And with the victory of war, also comes the casualties. Hundreds were killed, with many more injured. Bandages were in short supply, and the lack of priests did nothing to help.

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

Zane stood in a crowded hospital, many lying with bandages on makeshift beds. Many had serious claw wounds and would die without help. Others were pierced with arrows, javelins, spears. Although priests could speed up the healing process miraculously, they could only do so much at times. Surgeons moved swiftly, cutting off any limbs that could not be saved. Blood soaked the tiles of the hospital, and Zane moved among the injured, trying to inspire and give them hope. He looked downcast. Rivenn and the other paladins had fallen in the battle. He was the last Paladin left, and everyone would look to him.

Although General Tyron was the leader, Zane and the paladins were considered the champions. They were the ones who inspired hope and confidence in the men around them, and only he was left now. Their aura was legendary, their presence aiding the men to fight stronger and better. He watched from afar off as Rachel held the hand of a dying soldier, his intestines gouged out by a ghoul, ripping through his armour with sharp claws. He watched as she smiled at him, before his eyes closed forever.

Zane raised a bloody hand to his forehead, with a huge sigh.

"Zane, General Tyron requests for your presence" said a footman, standing behind him.

Zane turned, and nodded.

"I will be there shortly" he said.

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

Zane strode into the meeting room, where the remaining generals stood. Panepe was gone, as were most of his fellow knights. Lord Edmund stared at a map, looking down at it. Rachel entered several minutes after him, looking exhausted.

"We are all here then" said Tyron.

"Panepe?" asked Rams.

"Gone" muttered a knight.

"Where are the rest of the Knights of the Silver Hand?" asked Edmund, looking at Zane.

"They have fallen also" replied Zane, his voice surprisingly calm.

"Then we must not let their sacrifice be in vain. Several more transport ships have been built during the day. If Kul Tiras and their navy arrive in the next few days, we will be able to evacuate everyone safely. But it depends on us defending the first and second wall" said Edmund, looking at the map.

"We have withstood one assault already my lord. I do not know if the gates can take another beating like that" said Rams.

"They must hold...they hold the lives of thousands of soldiers in their hands. The Kul Tiras navy must be given time to arrive here. We must hold the first and second walls" declared Edmund.

"It is not as easy as you think...hundreds of men are wounded and we do not have the manpower to heal them all for the next battle" said Rachel.

"I know this is no easy task, but Tyron and his men did not bring all those refugees here for nothing. We will not let the sacrifices of our men go in vain. We will definitely hold" replied Edmund.

"My Lord! Ships have arrived in port!" said a footman, bursting in.

They looked at each other, before nodding and heading towards the port.

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

They stood, watching three destroyers and a large battleship, the flagship of the fleet. They were from Kalimdor, the flag showing the symbol of Jaina Proudmoore, leader of the humans on Kalimdor.

"Lord Edmund, it is good to see you again" said a large formidable man, a large beard on his face.

"Admiral Rivkin, it is good to see you as well" replied Edmund, shaking hands with him.

"I am here because of her" said Rivkin, motioning in the direction of Rachel.

Rachel's eyes widened in shock, and Zane blinked in surprise. Zane turned to Rachel, whose face had gone pale and was shaking. Rivkin turned his head towards her.

"Rachel Rivers, apprentice of Jaina Proudmoore. I am send through orders to ensure your safe arrival to Kalimdor. You are in no way to protest, and you are to come willingly" said Rivkin.

"I cannot abandon these people to their fate while I board some fancy ship" yelled Rachel, her face growing red.

"We are not abandoning these people. I will take their injured and their refugees, and then we will sail. We have priests available to aid them. But our mission is to ensure your safety" said Rivkin.

"Screw your mission. I have stayed by the side of these people the entire time, from Lordaeron to Dwellingup. I will not shirk my duty to them" shouted Rachel, her hands clenched.

"Jaina Proudmoore needs you in Kalimdor Rachel. She NEEDS you! Arthas is gone, her father is dead. Only one she has left are the men and women under her...and you. She cannot bear to loose another one that she cares for" replied Rivkin.

Rachel shook her head.

"I refuse" she hissed.

General Tyron looked at Admiral Rivkin, who looked increasingly angry.

"Listen you selfish brat! I did not sail two weeks over a treacherous sea to be bluntly refused by some...mage! You are coming with me, and that is FINAL!" yelled Rivkin.

"Admiral, I have walked hours on end, shed blood and tears beside these people. And then I come here, and on the first day some pompous admiral thinks HE can ORDER ME AROUND and tell me to abandon THESE PEOPLE. I WILL NOT!" screamed Rachel, storming off.

Tyron threw Zane a look, who grinned and shrugged. The Admiral looked angry, but also had a look of wry respect for Rachel.

"I must hand it to her. She really does care for these people" said Rivkin.

"Can your men and priests say and aid us in any way? I doubt you can return to Kalimdor empty handed" said Tyron.

Admiral Rivkin sighed, running a hand through his large beard.

"First Mate!" he yelled.

"Sir!" came a broad shouldered man standing on the flagship deck.

"Call to disembark, we are going to help these men...until we can drag Rachel away" said Rivkin.

"Aye aye admiral!" replied the first mate.

"Women..." muttered Rivkin.

Zane nodded to the group of men, and went after a very angry mage.

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

He found her sitting alone on a tower, viewing the battlefield where men were clearing the dead. Weapons that could be salvaged were being taken away for repair, while others were hard at work shifting ammunition. Others were hard at work on the gate, repairing the side they could see as much as they could. More timber was brought down to be hammered horizontally, hopefully to buy them more time before the gate would break. Large numbers of sentries patrolled the walls, ever watchful of the Scourge camp hidden in the forest.

She looked so alone when he saw her. He slowly walked over to her, and sat next to her. She looked across the horizon, at the slowly failing sun. A blood red sunset, equally fitting for the blood shed that day.

"Rachel" said Zane.

She said nothing, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"I must go. As much as I want to stay here with you...I must go with Rivkin" murmured Rachel.

"I was afraid you would say that. You owe a great deal to Jaina Proudmoore yes?" asked Zane, planting a kiss on her forehead.

Rachel nodded slightly.

"She found me a street orphan, with uncontrollable powers. She raised me as a sister, and brought me to the mage's guild in Dalaran. She helped teach me, raise me. I was with her through so many memories. When she had first caught the eye of the Prince, Arthas. She was so happy he had noticed her" said Rachel, chuckling.

"So you are bound to her then. A debt you must repay to her by going to her. She only wants the best for you" said Zane.

"I know...but I do not want to leave. I have come so far...and I met you" whispered Rachel, looking up at him.

Zane's arm pulled her closer, and she tilted her head up. Their lips met, the sunset their backdrop. Parting for air, Rachel wordlessly pulled off an amulet she wore around her neck, putting it around Zane's neck. It was a silver cross, with intricate designs and made of the finest metal found in Dalaran. In the middle held a blue crystal.

"For luck" she whispered, and their lips met again.

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

The morning arose, and Rachel stood on the docks. She watched as the refugees from Lordaeron streamed onto the boats. Sailors moved here and there. The transport ships that had been built would be carrying the refugees away, other injured soldiers also being placed where there was space on the battleships and destroyers. It would be a bittersweet parting, for those left behind. But for the column that marched from Lordaeron to Dwellingup, it was significant in which they had accomplished their goal. To protect the citizens and ensure their safety.

Many soldiers crowded the docks, watching as the citizens boarded. Many waved at each other, having formed friendships with the citizens. The citizens crowded the decks of the ships, smiling happily knowing they would be safe. The crowd on the docks parted for Admiral Rivkin, Lord Edmund and General Tyron.

"I wish you all the best my friends" said Rivkin, shaking both of their hands.

"Godspeed my friend" replied Lord Edmund.

Her eyes searched for him, unable to seek him out in the crowd. Rivkin stood next to her, curious into what she was waiting for. And then, he emerged from the crowd. The soldiers instinctively gave way to him, his aura of power and leadership shining through. His heavy armour shone brightly, and a cape bearing the symbol of the Knights of the Silver Hand flowed behind him. His brown hair blew in the wind, his back straight. Rachel's eyes lit up, as his own found hers. Rivkin turned as Rachel stepped forward. Zane stepped out from the crowd of soldiers, meeting her in the middle. Their hands met in front of them.

"Goodbye Rachel" said Zane with a smile.

"Promise me that I'll see you again. Promise me that you'll find me in Kalimdor" said Rachel, looking up at his face.

"I promise" replied Zane.

Rachel jumped into his arms with a ferocious kiss, Zane holding on for dear life. Finally, they parted. And Rachel stepped away from him.

"Goodbye...Rachel" said Zane.

"Goodbye..." replied Rachel, before boarding the ship.

Rivkin nodded to Zane, before boarding. Zane watched as Rachel looked out from the deck, as they slowly sailed off. She pressed her hand to her lips, before blowing it at Zane. Zane smiled, and waved back. Slowly the crowd dispersed, to prepare for the undead attack. Zane lost the smile, before walking slowly back. It could be the last time he would ever see her.

On the ship, Rachel stared out at the direction of Dwellingup while sailors moved around her, busy with the maintenance of the ship. And somehow in her heart, fear crept in that it would be the last time she ever saw Zane.

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

**And that's the ending of Fleeing the Past. **

**Thank you for reading.**

...

**No I'm kidding, it's not the end. **

**It is coming to a close however, and will probably either contain 1-2 more chapters. **

**Hope you enjoyed it, as this story comes to a close.**

**Until Next Time**

**Woot  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**Well, this story is coming to a close. **

**What can I say, this story has really exceeded my expectations.**

**I never really thought that when writing this FF that I would come this far.**

**It is a bit short compared to my other work in different places, but I've enjoyed every bit of this.**

**Reponse to review:**

**CaptainPrice: I'm glad you enjoyed it. Hope you had as much enjoyment reading it as I did writing it.**

**Anyway, without any further waffling here is the next chapter.  
**

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

Zane stood steady by the gate. The walls still held, but the gate was about to break. Behind him, two thousand of the finest soldiers stood ready to hold the gate. And behind them, hundreds of riflemen and archers. It was the third day of fighting. The Scourge had yet to gain on the first wall, which had bought them valuable time. They had opted to attack during nightfall, however they were easily routed with fire and oil. It was almost midday, and the attack had been going on for two hours. Thousands of undead creatures had attempted to gain on the walls, but the fierce defense of Dwellingup kept them at bay. But now, the gate was almost broken. The attacks on the walls was relenting, with most of their forces gathering by the gate. Both sides knew that the gate would give way soon.

The defense on top of the gate was staunch, with the finest rifles, bows and crossbows defending the main gate. The problem was number. For every ghoul they killed, two more took it's place. It was an unending horde seemingly. The abominations strode on, arrows pierced into their thick hides as they pounded away with the unholy log. An abomination fell, squashing two skeletons behind it, as another lumbered up to take its place. With a resounding boom, a large splinter appeared on the gate.

"Steady!" yelled Zane to the men.

Boom.

Another crack appeared, splintering down the left side.

"STEADY!" yelled Zane"

Boom.

A third crack, larger than the first two appeared. Zane looked as the men slowly took unsteady steps backwards.

"MEN OF DWELLINGUP. YOU WILL HOLD YOUR GROUND! THERE IS NOTHING TO FEAR, EXCEPT YOURSELVES!" yelled Zane.

Men slowly looked at each other, before slowly shifting back into place.

"STAND WITH ME BROTHERS, AND FEAR NO DARKNESS!" yelled Zane as the gates broke.

Zane drew his blade, and pointed towards the hordes now seen.

"Ready!" he yelled.

A large group of riflemen and bowmen stepped forward. The riflemen got to one knee, taking aim, as the archers pulled on their bowstrings. Several catapults and ballista were also positioned, aiming at the broken gate.

"Fire!" he yelled.

The Undead horde charged. Only to be met by a hail of bullets, arrows and several oversized arrows and rocks. A large rock crushed a whole group of skeletons, and stumbled an abomination into another. A large arrow from the ballista then pierced through their middles, and they slumped over, dead. And then, the assault on the walls redoubled. The men were hard pressed to hold the wall, and were barely hanging on.

"Fire!" yelled Zane.

He had decided to use as much ammunition as possible against the enemy, to inflict maximum casualties. The bowmen and riflemen fired again, but the horde gained ground on them.

"Fire!" yelled Zane.

The third and final volley hit the horde, as Zane motioned with his sword.

"CHARGE!"

And as one, two thousand soldiers charged, meeting with a clash. Zane's sword hefted a head off a skeleton, before he ducked under an offending scimitar and cutting the offending skeleton in two. A kick sent a ghoul to the ground, before a heavy boot crushed it's skull. The undead were caught unaware of the feriocity of the assault by the Alliance soldiers. They slowly gave way, unable to stop the soldiers from advancing. Pikemen with broad shields stood at the front, their large shields defending them while their long pikes impaled undead creatures. And slowly, they continued to force the undead forces to yield ground.

However, on the walls the men were being overwhelmed. Rams stood, blood pouring from a gash on his forehead. He hefted his last throwing hammer into the face of a ghoul, and shouted the retreat.

"Fall back!" he yelled.

The dwarves, men and elves pulled back from the walls, running down the stairs pursued by the undead. And slowly, they began to give way. It was only their fierce loyalty to one another that held the large group together as they fought a fighting retreat back towards the second gates. Hundreds fell, many casualties on both sides. Already their archers and riflemen were streaming through the open gate, to take their place on the walls. The first gate and courtyard had been lost.

The Scourge were unable to break the formation, and were taking heavy losses from the arrows and bullets being fired from above. The Death Knight swore, before commanding for his Scourge to pull back. It had taken him three lousy days to take the first gate. He could not afford to waste too much more time. They would attack at the crack of dawn...tomorrow

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

Zane stood by the second gate, watching as it slowly began to crumble from the ferocious attacks outside. On the walls, bowmen and riflemen desperately fired, trying to thin their ranks. Thousands had died, with only three thousand left to hold. Five thousand were dead, with two thousand injured. One thousand of the injured had been evacuated by the transport ships. The workers at the transport ships worked tirelessly, building the large vessels efficiently and quick. But now, on the afternoon of the third day, he knew that Dwellingup would not hold another three days. Kul Tiras had never come...there was no hope.

Zane reached into his armour to fiddle with the amulet Rachel had given him.

"Rachel" muttered Zane sadly

He closed his eyes, ignoring the sounds of battle. He could picture her, smiling happily as she looked at him, blonde hair flowing behind her in a gentle breeze. Green grass surrounding them as she ran towards him. Closer she came, beautiful and graceful. Zane reached out, as did she, their hands almost touching. And then Zane was jerked to reality by a hand on his shoulder.

"Zane...the gate will not hold" said Rams, standing next to him.

Zane looked at his blade, gleaming in the afternoon sun.

"And then we hold them here, inflict as many casualties as we can before we're overwhelmed" said Zane.

"I never thought I would die this way" grumbled Rams.

"Niether did I...my friend" replied Zane.

They stood ready, as the gate began to crack. Zane twirled his sword expertly as Rams held his large battleaxe. They turned to each other and nodded, before turning to the remaining forces of Dwellingup.

"FOR LORDAERON!" yelled Zane.

"FOR KHAZ MODAN!" yelled Rams.

"FOR THE ALLIANCE!" yelled General Tyron, taking his place next to them.

"FOR DWELLINGUP!" yelled Lord Edmund.

As the gate broke down, they charged. Two hours they fought, until Zane's arms ached, and was wounded in half a dozen places. His armour was full of scratches and nicks, other places where the weapons of the undead had pierced through and drawn blood. His sword was covered in dust, ash and blood, and not a speck of it was clean. He had slaughtered hundreds of undead creatures, but they simply kept coming. General Tyron and Lord Edmund had both suffered poison wounds from a necromancer, and were pulled back for healing. As Zane deflected an axe, he heard a shout over the battle.

"KUL TIRAS HAS ARRIVED!"

Zane's heart turned to joy, before a heavy blow caught him to the back of the head. He stumbled, falling to his hands and knees, trying to shake away the blow. As soldiers fought around his dazed body, a hard knee from a footman slammed into his head, and he saw nothing but black.

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

_Twenty Days Later_

Rachel stepped off the boat, business having taken them to other ports firstly, before heading back towards Kalimdor. As such, a two week trip had turned into twenty three days.

'_Twenty five days since I had last seen him...' thought Rachel, as she stepped off the boat._

A crowd had gathered onto the dock to watch, and cheered at the sight of the Admiral and loved ones coming back. Wives and lovers rushed to sailors, hugging happily and joyously. For in Kalimdor, there was still hope. For Rachel however, she was ushered away towards the large fortress in the distance, escorted by four pikemen to help push her through the crowd. Admiral Rivkin joined her, with two of his own sailors joining them.

Rachel stepped into the meeting room, where Jaina Proudmoore turned, her blue eyes shining with delight.

"Rachel! Oh thank the Light!" she said, embracing her.

"Jaina, it is good to see you too my friend" said Rachel, holding on tightly.

"I was afraid that you were unable to make it to Dwellingup. Reports say that so many perished in the siege of Lordaeron, but once General Rivkin had confirmed you were alive, I was filled with joy" said Jaina, pulling away to look at Rachel closely.

"Such sad eyes..." said Jaina softly.

Rachel closed her eyes softly, before opening them.

"Jaina, surely you have news of Dwellingup? Have the navy from Kul Tiras arrived from Dwellingup with the survivors?" asked Rachel.

Jaina stiffened involuntarily, and stepped back from Rachel, who looked shocked and turned pale white at Jaina's reaction. Jaina turned around, to pace around a large oak table used for the meeting. She turned back to look at Rachel, a sorrowful look on her face.

"I'm sorry Rachel, three days after you left, Dwellingup fell" said Jaina slowly.

"Survivors?" pleaded Rachel, stepping forward with wide eyes.

"There were none...besides the ones that made it to the ships. They say that those who didn't get on the ships died, dead to the last man" said Jaina solemnly.

"Transport ships? Did you see a paladin? Brown hair?" asked Rachel hysterically.

Jaina closed her eyes sadly, knowing that Rachel had fallen in love with this paladin.

"I'm sorry...the report from the surviving Lord Edmund and General Tyron I have gotten motion of only one paladin left, Zane Cousland. Rachel...the reports say that the paladin you seek fell defending the gate at the start of the third day, next to the dwarf general Rams" said Jaina.

Rachel slumped to her knees in shock, and cried. She would not leave her room for the next two days. Jaina did nothing, but wrap her in a hug as Rachel wept.

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

"_Rachel..." came a loving whisper._

_Rachel opened her eyes, to be seated on a grassy green field. It was covered in flowers, with hundreds of lush green trees around them. She saw a white hooded figure ahead of her, their back turned towards her. A wind blew softly around, sending leaves spiralling into the air. _

"_Rachel..." said the figure._

_Rachel smiled, knowing the voice instantly._

"_Zane!" she exclaimed, getting to her feet._

_She walked happily over to him, but the figure didn't turn around._

"_Zane...?" asked Rachel quietly._

"_Rachel...why?" asked Zane._

'_Zane...what's going on? How did you survive? How did I get here?" asked Rachel._

"_Rachel...why did you abandon us?" asked Zane, his voice becoming colder and sharper._

_Rachel took an involuntary step back. Slowly, the horizon changed. The green grassy field turned into a wasteland, skeletons of dead humans and animals. The trees became dead, and the wind became cold and numb._

"_Rachel...why did you abandon me?" hissed Zane, turning around, his eyes red._

_Her eyes widened in horror. Zane's skin was pale blue, his eyes swollen and his hair white. He was a death knight._

"_Why..." screeched Zane._

Rachel screamed as she woke up, panting in bed. Sweat poured down her face, as she stared into the darkness of the room.

"Just a dream..." she muttered, pulling herself out of bed.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. She wouldn't sleep again tonight. Slowly, she dressed herself before running a comb through her hair. She sighed again, having cried for the past two days as her heart ached. She slowly put on soft slippers, before walking out of her room from the fortress. She headed to the town built around the fortress, where she ended up sitting at a random tavern that from random soldier's comments was the most popular one in town. It wasn't too late, around eight o'clock. She looked at the homely establishment, a large tavern with large boisterous words saying "Dragon's Den."

She entered, seeing a whole wide range of folk. Soldiers, sailors, traders, merchants, civilians crowded the area. She walked over to the bar counter, ordering herself a strong drink. Grabbing it quickly with thanks as she put down a few coins, she sculled it in one go. She drank the entire thing, before slamming the tankard back onto the counter.

"Steady on missy, you seem like you're here to escape the world" said a sailor sitting next to her.

"Wouldn't you like to know" muttered Rachel sarcastically.

"I would actually. It's tuesday night, and so you know what that means, ey boys?" yelled the sailor.

"STORY NIGHT!" came the cheer from the patrons around the tavern.

"Cute" muttered Rachel.

"No really. We normally get onto that stage over there," said the sailor, pointing to a stage where a figure sat, while a whole crowd of chairs were around with people listening. "And from there, we share stories. I reckon you should get up there, instead of drinking yourself into oblivion."

"I don't want to" said Rachel, ordering another drink and reaching for the tankard.

The sailor stopped her, his hand holding down her tankard.

"Let go" growled Rachel.

"You can drink all you want missy, but you look like someone who needs to get something off her chest. So why not here? No one really knows who you are, and I'm sure your tale will be interesting. Whaddaya have to lose?" asked the sailor.

Rachel sighed, before standing up. She watched as the figure got off the chair, bowing to the clapping crowd.

"Go on, I'll come listen too" said the sailor.

He pushed her onto the stage, where Rachel reluctantly sat down. A whole crowd of mixed faces faced her, and she sighed.

"I don't really know where to begin I guess...except to say that I was in the siege of Lordaeron" said Rachel.

Instantly, chairs shifted forward as people took interest, and more began to gather.

"I was a mage from Dalaran, and I found myself fighting in the siege after coming to run an errand in Lordaeron."

"Then, the Falling Legion invaded, and Lordaeron was under siege..." continued Rachel.

"It was in the huge battle at the South gates of Lordaeron when I met him..."

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

**Well, I hoped you enjoyed that chapter. I kind of wrote it up pretty quickly, but it was an enjoyable write nonetherless.**

**I must say that it really was a quick update, for my standards also, so count yourself lucky =P.**


	8. Epilogue

_**The final chapter of FTP. **_

_**I hope you enjoy.**_

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

When she had finished, the crowd went silent, before clapping and cheering went on.

"Well done for getting so far!" yelled one.

"Keep moving forward!" yelled another.

Rachel smiled through tears as they cheered and clapped for her. Slowly, the cheering finally died down, but the sound of heavy footsteps of someone approaching made her look up. She looked up ,recognising a dwarf from Dwellingup.

"Rams!" exclaimed Rachel, hopping off her perch and towards the dwarf.

The patrons looked on as they saw the dwarf Rams, looked ragged and tired, with his right arm was held in a sling. However, he stood there with a happy smile.

"Rachel, it is good to see you again" he said.

"I haven't seen most of the leadership group since I had to leave" said Rachel.

Rams smiled sadly.

"Aye, a lot of good folk died on those docks. Many fine men, elves and dwarves" said Rams.

Rachel patted his shoulder fondly.

"It is good to see you again" Rachel said.

"You miss the laddie, don't you?" asked Rams.

Rachel nodded, as Rams reached into his jacket.

"You know why you haven't seen me around?" asked Rams.

Rachel blinked in confusion.

"You were in the hospital? I haven't simply been in the right place at the right time?" asked Rachel.

Rams smiled at her.

"Lass, we just arrived. The last survivors from Dwellingup..." said Rams.

Rachel's eyes widened, and she stared at him with hope.

"Aye, he's waiting for you by the dock" grinned Rams.

A cheer arose from the crowd. As the bells of the town rang, signalling that an important event had happened.

"Don't keep him waiting now, I'm here because I haven't had a good ale in weeks!" declared Rams, striding forward.

Rachel rushed out, happily into the cold night air.

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

When she arrived at the dock, it was crowded with people already flocking there. Then, the crowd became silent from a hand held. Slowly, Rachel began to push her way through the crowd.

"Zane Cousland, last paladin of the Knights of the Silver Hand, we welcome you to Fornthorst" said Jaina, smiling at him.

Zane, tired with a bandage wrapped around his forehead nodded.

"We bring all that is left of the resistance of Dwellingup" said Zane.

Jaina smiled at him.

"Let us celebrate! For the returning of heroes, and for the deeds of our fallen men who gave their lives for the Alliance!" yelled Jaina.

The crowd cheered loudly. Reunions were sweet, with many soldiers on the last ship having families. Women flocked towards mostly injured but smiling men, battered and bruised, but not defeated. Cries of joy rang out in the dock, as it all took place.

Zane stood silently, scanning for her. And then she appeared, pushing her way through two big guards. And she looked as beautiful as ever.

The wind blew her hair across her face, and she raised a hand to push it away, her long blonde hair flowing behind her. Zane smiled at her, and joy surged in him, as she ran for his arms. He caught her with a shout of joy, twirling her around happily. Her arms wrapped around his neck for joy as she screamed in delight. And then she descended, staring up at Zane.

"Welcome back" she whispered.

"It's good to be back" he replied.

And with that, their lips met in a soul-rendering kiss.

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

It would be several days later that Rachel had asked Zane how he had survived. Reports had said of him being cut down at the gates. Zane simply grinned at her.

"Rams dragged my unconscious body away. We missed out on the Kul Tiras boats like so many others, being cut off. But we gathered what men we could and retreated to the palace. There we hid in the tunnels and foraged for supplies. The tunnel leads to many places, and as such we built a boat in secret in the harbour under the cover of darkness. It was scary, but after we had finished we boarded and sailed off" Zane had explained.

Rachel had beamed at him happily.

"I'm so glad you're safe" sighed Rachel, leaning on his shoulder as they watched the sunset on the walls of the keep.

Zane smiled, before pulling an amulet off his neck.

"I think this belongs to you" he said with a smile.

"You did promise to return didn't you" asked Rachel with a grin.

"I cannot allow my lady love to be disappointed can I?" asked Zane, pulling out a ring with his other hand.

Rachel's eyes widened.

"Will you make me the happiest man in Kalimdor and marry me?" asked Zane.

Rachel pulled him into a kiss.

"I suppose that means a yes" grinned Zane.

"Mmm, and the start of another adventure for us" said Rachel happily.

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

**_Six Years Later_**

A mansion stood, known as the home of the Grandmaster of the reformed Knights of the Silver Hand. The home of the legendary Couslands, both heroes during the war. Zane had become the leader of the Knights of the Silver Hand, while Rachel had become head enchanter of the Mage's guild. Together they both wielded a large amount of power. With the wars over and done with, they had been blessed by their first child, who was now two years old, with another on the way.

Rivenn Cousland sat on his mother's lap, smiling at her. He had Zane's eyes, but Rachel's blonde hair. His features came mostly from his father, with a broad build. Zane had seen him born and had declared him a fine little soldier and a wonderful addition to the family. Now, the little boy sat on his mother's lap, who held him lovingly. Then, a servant opened the door and Zane strode into their mansion, a smile on his lips.

"Good afternoon love" said Zane, kissing Rachel on the lips.

Six years and a child later and their love was stronger than ever, both completely happy and satisfied with their growing family. Zane pecked his son on the forehead with a smile.

"Daddy!" said Rivenn happily, holding up his arms.

Zane picked up his son, twirling him around happily.

"Hello my son" said Zane with a smile.

Rachel smiled at their close relationship. They were happy. Although trials had come and gone, they had gotten through it together. And their past, they did not flee from it, but rather embraced it. It was their destiny to meet, to fall in love, to fight and to live. Their past they would have nightmares, but they would never flee from it. No, in fact when people asked how they had met, as Rivenn would do later in his life, Rachel would put him on his lap, and like at that tavern all those years ago, would recount to the inquisitive little boy how they had met. And how they now lived happily as a family.

End.

_**o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o**_

_**And so ends the story.**_

_**I hope you have enjoyed it as much as I have had writing it. **_

_**It really exceeded my expectation, and perhaps one day I will return to write another WC FF.**_

_**Who really knows. **_

_**But Thank you for reading Fleeing the Past.**_

**_Woot  
_**


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